


Sad Intangibles

by ComplicatedLight



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lewis Fright Fest 2013, Major character death - Freeform, Murder scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComplicatedLight/pseuds/ComplicatedLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis and Hathaway try to make sense of what happened at a murder scene . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Intangibles

**Author's Note:**

> This quick little fic is my offering for the Inspector Lewis Fanworks Challenge Fright Fest 2013.
> 
> It's dark and chilly and not at all the kind of story I usually write, but I think it's spooky enough to work for the Fright Fest. 
> 
> Thanks as ever for great beta support from [lindenharp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindenharp)
> 
> More notes at the end of the fic, but they do rather give away the main point of the story, so probably best to read them post-fic.

The second day of the case was even more appalling than the first. Bloody footprints in every downstairs room, and everywhere shards of glass and shattered furniture— nauseating testament to the brutal deaths suffered by the victims. James moved quietly from room to room, opening drawers and sifting through stacks of bills and newspapers. Never had he felt quite so overwhelmed—disconnected yet overwhelmed—at a crime scene. He pulled his winter coat tighter around him, longing to be anywhere but here, in this place of death. 

Every time he looked out the window towards the house opposite, a worried-looking girl of about nine was watching. Most of the time she was sitting cross-legged on the concrete driveway to her house, back leant against the garage door, looking awkward in a pair of wellies way too big for her. When she wasn’t there she was standing at the bedroom window at the front of the house, gazing directly at the taped-off murder-scene, watching SOCO and James and Lewis go about their grim work.

“Sir.” James spoke softly, not wanting to startle his boss who was contemplating the blood-sodden carpet in the living room. Lewis showed no sign of having heard him, so he tried again, a little louder:

“Sir. Uniform spoke to all the neighbours yesterday, but I think the girl who lives opposite might have seen something—she’s been watching us all day—I mean really watching us—I’m going to go across and have a word with her.”

Lewis sighed and shook his head as if trying to surface from the depths of some nightmare or other. He looked blankly at James for a second or two and then seemed to get himself focussed again.

“I wouldn’t bother. Just a kid—probably just a bit of ghoulish interest. Better to get back to the station and start going through the report from forensics.”

It wasn’t like Lewis to dismiss him out of hand like that. But he’d obviously been really affected by the case. James pressed a little.

“Sir? What harm could it do to ask a couple of gentle questions, just in case? It’d only take a minute.”

Their eyes locked for a long moment, the expression on Lewis’ face unfathomable, but eventually he shrugged and nodded.

“Nah, you’re probably right. Maybe we should speak to her. Come on then—I’ll come over with you,” and with that he started moving towards the living room door. James followed him, glad to be heading out into the late afternoon light for a while.

They walked across the road, side-by-side in silence. The girl—who was at her post by the garage—got to her feet as she watched them coming, her face pale and pinched—dark circles under her eyes.

James smiled at her as they showed their warrant cards. Up close she looked older than James had thought—maybe 11 or 12—but slight for her age. 

“I’m Detective Sergeant Hathaway and this is my boss, Detective Inspector Lewis. There’s no need to worry. You haven’t done anything wrong. What’s your name?”

“Ginny Walsh.” She didn’t quite meet James’ eyes as she spoke.

“Ginny, we noticed that you seem like an observant girl and we were wondering if you saw or heard anything unusual or upsetting last night?”

The girl didn’t say anything but the frown between her eyes deepened. She studied the dried mud on her wellies. It was clear that she was scared. 

“Ginny, what did you see? It’s OK, whatever it was, you can tell us.”

She looked up at him for a long while, her eyes wide. 

“I can tell you anything?” She watched his face, warily.

He nodded, touched by this strange, anxious-looking girl. “Yes. Anything at all.”

She lent in closer to him. 

“I see dead people.” It was barely a whisper. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

“I see dead people. I don’t want to but I can’t help it.” She sounded exhausted.

James and Lewis exchanged a glance over her head, James at a loss as to what to say next. Lewis crouched down onto one knee by the girl’s side. He smiled at her, his expression warm and reassuring. “Ginny love, do you mean you saw dead people across the road last night? What happened?” 

She looked directly at him and shook her head emphatically. But she was obviously upset. Something wasn't right. Lewis tried again. “Whatever you saw, it’s OK, you can tell us. What did you see last night?”

“I didn’t see anything last night. I was in bed last night. I see them all the time in the street. On the way to school. They talk to me, want me to help them. But I don’t know what to do. They’re all lost or they’ve lost people or they can’t find their way home. What am I meant to do?” Her voice had risen while she was talking—by the time she finished, she sounded like she was pleading with them.

James felt very uneasy. Whether she had seen anything of importance or not, she was obviously disturbed. It was clear that she wasn’t going to tell them anything useful in the state she was in, and they really shouldn’t be pushing a vulnerable child witness, and certainly not without a parent or guardian present. 

Lewis stood back up and was clearly thinking the same, because he started to steer the girl towards the front door of her house, evidently wanting to speak to her parents. But he stopped abruptly and frowned. James turned back towards the crime scene, following Lewis’ gaze. What had caught his boss’ eye was Laura Hobson parking her car outside the house opposite.

“That’s odd.” Lewis was still frowning. “What’s Laura Hobson doing here on day two of an investigation? There’s no more bodies for her to look at. _Christ_. SOCO can’t have found another body, can they?!” 

He turned back towards Ginny, who was standing between them, also looking at the house opposite. “Go on, love. You pop inside now. Can’t be good for you to be watching all this. Tell your mam that we’ll be over later for a word.” 

She pushed the front door open, and it occurred to James that the last time he had seen a child look so weary, so burdened, had been when he was a child—when he had been that weary, burdened child. He glanced at Lewis again, who looked as bothered by the encounter with Ginny as James felt. They stood and watched until she was safely inside.

“Come on.” Lewis sighed. “We’d better see what Laura’s up to. I’m not happy with that girl, though. Something’s spooked her, no doubt about it.”

They strode back across the road, ducked under the police tape, and entered the house again. They found Laura in the living room, staring at the massive bloodstain on the carpet. She looked dreadful; her eyes red and swollen, her knuckles white with tension where she was clutching her car keys. James felt apprehension roll up through his guts and stomach as he watched her. Laura Hobson was not one for showing her distress at work—the only time he had ever seen her in this kind of state was when they’d rescued her from being buried alive. Lewis stepped towards her.

“Laura—you all right? What’s the matter?” 

She ignored him.

James watched as Lewis gently placed a hand on Laura’s shoulder.

“Laura? Are you with us, Pet?”

She looked startled, and started to cry, but still didn’t respond. Two, three, four seconds passed as Lewis stood in silence, clearly deliberating what to do next, then Laura slowly turned towards him—her face wrecked by grief and lack of sleep—and James watched as she walked straight through his boss. One second she was directly in front of Lewis, crying and rummaging in her pocket for a tissue; the next she was somehow through him and making for the door. Lewis’ eyes locked with James’ as they listened to Laura speak to one of the SOCO guys in the hallway.

“I can’t do it. What the hell was I thinking, coming back to this godforsaken place?! I thought I might be able to help, but I keep thinking any minute they’re going to walk in . . .” They heard her break off crying; her sobs shockingly loud in the dismal quiet of the house, then fading as she hurried back to her car. 

James felt splinters of memories—flashes of fear and pain—start to whirl round him, as if he were caught in some malevolent, bloody storm. He closed his eyes to try and block it out, but the screams and crashes and roaring in his head were terrifyingly loud, and he felt himself being swept away by it all. But then Lewis was by his side, wrapping a strong arm round him. James opened his eyes. Lewis looked scared, but when he spoke, his voice was steady.

“Whatever this is, James, we’re in it together.” 

James let his face rest against his boss’ shoulder, comforted by the texture of Lewis’ suit against his cheek, the firm pressure of his hand on his back. He felt the maelstrom begin to subside. Lewis steered him towards the doorway, through the hall and out of the front door, both of them taking care not to brush against any of the SOCO team. As Laura drove away, James noticed that Ginny was back outside, watching, waiting. As he and Lewis walked across the road towards her once again, she met James gaze, smiled a sad little smile and waved to them, welcoming them to this unknowable future.

**Author's Note:**

> As you will no doubt have noticed, I completely nicked the central idea for this fic, and the famous line "I see dead people", from the film the Sixth Sense.
> 
> The title of the fic comes from some lines by T S Eliot to Walter de la Mare:
> 
> The lawn  
> Is pressed by unseen feet, and ghosts return  
> Gently at twilight, gently go at dawn,  
> The sad intangible who grieve and yearn....


End file.
